


Fragments of our lives

by thisloveisradiant



Series: We find love in every universe [7]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Drabble Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6555835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisloveisradiant/pseuds/thisloveisradiant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is where I gather all my drabbles, snippets, or anything that can't really be called a proper fic, so it'll be very random but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one is very old. A super short drabble for zumuyuki: Things you said when you were drunk - sarumi

The thing is, Fushimi hates alcohol.

From the strong smell to the bitter taste, from the way it messes with people’s mind to the way it makes people forget everything, he hates it to the very core of his bones. And to add a cherry on top, it just screams of that goddamned guy’s presence. Fushimi often imagines the ghost of Niki floating in the air that reeks of alcohol and laughing with malice, or bathing himself in a rich red wine without a care in the world.

Haha, and just how ironic it is, for him to not only hanging uselessly around a bar but also falling victim to a dead drunk Yata.

“Heeeey~~ come on, driiiink Saru.” The redhead slurs. “..hic, K-Kusa, Kusanagi-san ‘not here so loosen up…hic, It‘s Mikoto’s vi’tory~!”

Oh, right. Fushimi clicks his tongue and glances at the king, who went on his own way to burn some troublesome gang down earlier today then casually took a wine bottle back as a trophy. Like usual, Yata is way too impressed and follows suit. Such a stupid reason to drink.

“You’re annoying, Misaki. Stop drinking.”

“Nah, nope, never~” Yata sings in terribly high notes, swaying back and forth on the stool. “Mikoto-san’s drinki’ too. Hmmm, did ya see wh’t he did!? Fire! Flaaame! BOOM! Soooo cool neh!”

Annoying, annoying. So bothersome, just when did Yata become this irritating? Fushimi feels his fingers itch for something to scratch.

“’s awesome, hicm, cool, M-Mikoto-san ‘s awesome! Mikotoooo-saaan~~! Hahaha, ha, ha!”

Stop it. It’s always Mikoto-san, Mikoto-san with you. Stop saying that. Stop laughing. Stop looking away and stop, stop, stop breathing out that suffocating smell, no more, no more. He remembers he used to read somewhere that drunk people are the most honest. Yata. Misaki. Why is it “Mikoto-san” that is the only thought in your hazy mind, Misaki?

Gritting his teeth hard, Fushimi stands up abruptly and walks away. He may hear a faint call of his name, or maybe it’s his imagination again.

He doesn’t know why, but he slows down, just a tiny little bit.

Yet, he isn’t followed.

(He can hear laughter ringing in the air. It reeks of alcohol.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another old one, a request from zumuyuki: au where mikoto never picked saruhiko and yata up and they have nothing to do with the kings and all, yata got a job at starbucks and can kinda deal with serving woman and girls but nothing more and saru sometimes fixes websites (just when he cares)

“…Misaki.”

“Shut up.”

“But, honestly, Misaki…”

“I said shut up, stupid Saru! It was…was leftover!”

Saruhiko chuckled, eyeing the table with obvious amusement. Their dinner today was…spectacular. Of course, he knew their anniversary was important - he even prepared a gift for Misaki and all, but he was nowhere close to expecting this kind of present from Misaki.

Present, as in three kilograms of French fries and fried chicken, as well as twelve hamburgers of various kinds. And a bonus toy from the Happy meal. A penguin strap.

He should have known, though. Misaki was working as a part-timer at Mc Donalds, after all.

“They let you get away with these?” Saruhiko poked the penguin. It instantly squeaked _I’m lovin’ it~!_

Misaki fumed, blushing all the way to his ears. “Well, yeah. I’m a great hard-worker. They let me do everything I want.”

“Whatever you say, Misaki~~”

The redhead pushed a beef hamburger into Saruhiko’s mouth, processing to choke him. Saruhiko paid back by shoving a handful of French fries into Misaki’s face, not forgetting to add ketchup as a bonus. They rolled around the room, trying to smear greasy food onto the other and laughing without a care in the world.

The little catfight ended abruptly when Misaki accidently force fed Saruhiko a slice of tomato. The shorter guessed he deserved the spilled out tomato on his forehead, but it was disgusting so he still punched Saruhiko with mild strength.

“Okay, so, what’s my gift?” Misaki couldn’t help but ask, since Saruhiko made no move to give him anything.

“Heh.” He didn’t know what he was expecting, but a small diverted snort was not on the list.

“What the fuck, monkey! Don’t you dare tell me you forget it!”

Saruhiko shrugged nonchalantly, then pulled out his PDA. “Look.”

The screen showed an online shopping website which Misaki took some seconds to recognize the address. Before, it had been such a terrible designed website that no one bothered to use. Its admin had to hire Saruhiko to fix it – the young genius was reluctant at first (mostly because he was lazy as fuck), yet changed his mind after a while.

“You fixed it? It looks so cool now! A-Ah, but if you think I can be distracted by this you’re fucking wrong!” Misaki pouted and stretched out his palm, unaware of how much he resembled a spoiled kid. “I didn’t sneak a ton of food out of workplace for nothing, just so you know!”

Saruhiko raised an eyebrow mockingly. Chuckling, he pointed to some parts of the website. “After I fixed it, I installed a secret hacking program. Whenever someone buys something on this, it’ll add to your account a fraction of their purchase. The program will destroy itself in a month, though, couldn’t risk it. Anyway, I’ve hacked enough to buy you this new skateboard, it’ll be delivered tomorrow. Cool, right?”

Misaki’s eyes went wide at the sight of the totally awesome punkish skateboard displayed on the screen. Smiling brightly, with a bounce, he jumped onto Saruhiko and kissed him square on the mouth, teeth clashing and whatnot.

“Damn, Saru, you’re so fucking evil. I love it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Day 1.**

One look at the content of the Mihashira’s canteen and Fushimi had already regretted his life choices.

Now, to be perfectly honest, Fushimi had always been making terrible life choices - like 90% of his short living time was made of choices with questionable consequences,  but today it hit him especially hard that he had just fucked up _so bad._

“Welcome, you must be Fushimi-kun, the newcomer that is rumoured to be especially hand-picked by His Excellency. You haven’t got your uniform yet?” An (assumedly) woman behind the food counter asked him. He had no idea why even the kitchen staff had to wear the ridiculous rabbit mask and full on uniform. How the heck could Kokujoji tell his subordinates apart? How the heck could the clansmen themselves even know who should be who? Was it a secret bonus ability of the gold clan or something?

“…I’ll receive it tomorrow.” He answered dryly, eyes focusing on the food so that he wouldn’t burst out in mocking laughter. Not that he cared for first impression or whatever, just that it wasn’t a good idea to be rude to the person who was going to lead him through hell.

Hell, as in several dozens of dishes of almost nothing but _vegetables._

“What’s this?”

“It’s creamy turnip soup. Hot and a little sweet, perfect choice for a cold day.”

“…And this?”

“Radicchio salad with green olives and roasted chicken fillets. Fresh taste with a hint of delicate sourness. Would you like to try it?”

 _Yeah,  yeah, if you could be so kind to pick only the fucking chicken pieces_ , _which from what I see should be about 1/100 of the whole dish,_ Fushimi cringed. “Is there anything that not fuc– I mean, fully rabbit food?”

The fellow Usagi paused for a long moment. Since there was no way to see her expression, it felt really, really, really uncomfortable.

“Poor child.” Damn, her voice sounded so _concerned,_ it pissed him off “… You should at least try the scrambled egg with tomatoes?”

At this, Fushimi silently set his tray off, turned around in dramatic slow motion, got the fuck out of there without a word and never came back.

**Day 2.**

Fushimi stared at his newly delivered uniform and wondered if betraying Jungle – no, betraying his best and only friend - truly worth it.

“Eh, Your Excellency, is this bunny tail…necessary?” He clicked his tongue, making no real effort to hide his obvious displeasure.  

“By all means, Fushimi-kun.” The Gold King confirmed with all his glorious seriousness, even going as far as pointing to the nearest clansman’s tail-attached ass to strengthen his point, which was creepy as hell if Fushimi thought about it. “Though you have my permission to alter your uniform as you seem fit for your hidden weapons, no part of it should be absent.”

_Right. Of course. Sure. Whatever._

Still frowning at the innocent uniform, he immediately thought of a hundred plus one ways to fix it. First of all, he would need to cut it shorter or else he would surely fall on his face stepping on his own clothes. The sides should be slightly open so knives could go in and out and he could hide his PDA if being caught slacking off. He didn’t give a fuck about the tail anymore. “Excuse me for asking this…but why rabbits?”

As if Fushimi had just put forth the prodigious question of the century, Kokujoji scratched his chin thoughtfully in such a fake manner that screamed he was just waiting for the suitable moment to drop the bomb. Fed up with it, Fushimi decided to help out by purposefully throwing the rabbit mask onto the floor – totally not out of resentment or anything like that, of course, stop your stupid judgement.

On cue, Kokujoji started looking out the window, eyes far away and tremble with unfathomable feelings. “It’s my eternal gratefulness for the rabbit who was the messenger of God. In the time of war, even the smallest mercy saved one’s life.”

“Oh? Don’t tell me it’s something like you were starving after a final battle and a random rabbit brought you a carrot?” Fushimi muttered under his breath. He didn’t mean it seriously in the slightest, but Kokujoji abruptly turned to stare all wide eyes at him. “…What? For real?”

“As expected of my most outstandingly talented young man, Fushimi-kun. Your deduction skill certainly doesn’t leave room for underestimation.” The Gold King patted his head, using full advantage of his giant height, and nodded in approval, though his humourless face made it look like he was going to kill someone. “From now on, wear the gold clan’s rabbit mask with the pride of Japan’s prosperity!”

“Uhm. Yes…Your Excellency.” Fushimi honestly didn’t know what he should feel about this whole thing.

Awkwardly picking the uniform up as a silent _‘can I be alone now? Please?’,_ Fushimi wondered if God was real and what did he do for God to hate him so much.

“Then, I’ll leave you to have a good time exploring how the uniform feels on your skin.” At least Kokujoji took the hint. _But would it kill you to consider another choice of words!? You do know what people associate bunnies with, don’t you? Or is it the fucking real reason?_

With an exasperating sigh, Fushimi began to change. It soon became a tedious process since there were so many things to put on and he didn’t use to wearing traditional clothes at all. Frankly, the unfamiliar fabric was just one step away from strangling him.

However, only when he tried to put the mask on that the real dilemma slammed itself into his face. Like, literally slapping him in the fucking face.

“How the fuck am I supposed to wear glasses now?”

**Day 3.**

If there was one single thing good about the mask it must be the fact that no one could tell Fushimi was frowning so hard at them.

“So, what you are saying is,” he repeated very slowly, “you’re going to teach me ninjutsu?”

The old man, head of the clansmen, firmly nodded. “That is true. As a member of the gold clan, certain techniques are much needed to learn. Your personal talents would be finely polished thanks to the ninjutsu as well.”

 _No thanks._ “I see.”

“I’ll demonstrate the basic hand movements. Watch carefully.” As the man speaking, his hands swiftly moved up and down in various positions that Fushimi couldn’t make anything out but a confusing blur.

“I take my word back.” He scowled, eyes squinting into thin lines behind the mask. “I can’t see.”

“Is that so, Fushimi-kun? Should I teach you slower?”

“I mean I literally can’t see. I can’t wear my glasses like this.” He pointed to his face, clearly trying to ask if he could take the offensive object off.

“We, the rabbits of the gold clan, in no situations would be allowed to take the mask off. Eye contact should solve your little problem.” The old man whipped out a voucher of a local eye contact store from his sleeves, seeming too used to this kind of thing. “Go buy a pair then come back at noon.”

_Damn it._

After an uncomfortable trip to the store in which people kept staring and pointing at him and muttering “scary bunny”, Fushimi finally acquired what he needed. If he did poke his eyes several times trying to put the lenses in, he refused to even acknowledge it.

However, as it turned out, his eyes were too sensitive to co-live with some strange stuff. Ten minutes in and he was already half crying half swearing while walking back to the tower. Fushimi swore he hadn’t had this much tear pouring since the last time he had tried chopping onions.

_Double damn it._

“Mister Rabbit!” Something tugged at the hem of his uniform. Fushimi looked down through hazy tears to see a kid smiling and handing him a carrot. “Mister Rabbit, why are you crying? Are you lonely? Don’t be lonely! Here, please have this veggie and smileee!”

_Fuck._

**Day 4.**

“Oh, Fushimi Saruhiko, you are not supposed to do this.” The old man, whose name Fushimi still hadn’t bothered to remember, pointed at him and sighed melodramatically. The ears bounced slightly above his head providing a good distraction from the annoying nagging. “Stop wandering the main hall at midnight, or else you may encounter something that you would rather not want to.”

“I just wanted to take a bottle of water from the common room.” Fushimi raised an eyebrow. “But now you’re making me curious. What that something may be?”

“Something…out of this world…beyond your foolish imagination…the deepest secret of the Gold clan…” The head clansman slowly slid away, faded into the darkness like a goddamned ninja, leaving ominous provoking words obviously on purpose.  

_Seriously, if you want me to go and see it, just straight up say that already._

Allowing himself to have a little humour to end the stressful day, Fushimi abandoned his original intended trip and stepped toward the direction which the old man had disappeared.

At first, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Just long, dark hall that seemed to go forever. Fushimi knew better, though. He had seen and memorized the blueprint of the whole building – he knew where it would lead to.

The deepest secret of the Gold clan, huh. Isn’t that interesting?

Right, left, left, should be another turn to rig–!

“Fushimi-kun. Is there an emergency so important that you deem I should know before dawn break?”  

“Y-Y-Your Excellen…cy?” There it was. The thing that went beyond his wildest dream.

Kokujoji Daikaku, the Gold King, the legendary man who brought Japan to prosperity, the 90+year-old stoic giant who can basically walk right into space, was wearing a fluffy white bunny pajama. Special limited edition, with long moe ears and a military hat and a realistic waving tail and all that jazz. Behind him, the door opened just enough for Fushimi to see a collection of at least sixty-nine stuffed rabbits of various sizes and colours, a neat bed sheet and a blanket with creepy smiling bunny pattern on it, and wallpaper full of weird ninjutsu instruction that looked suspiciously like Kamasutra.

Fushimi slowly turned around, greeting darkness his old friend. “No, nothing, Your Excellency. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t meet you. In fact, I didn’t come here at all.”

Now, if only he could tear his burning eyes out and wash them in holy water for a hundred years.

**Day 5.**

“I am not stalking Misaki.” Fushimi grumbled while searching for his ex-friend’s position via the highest technology possible. “Underground clan members tend to be difficult to come across on the street, that’s all.”

“…Sure, kid.” The older Usagi next to him shrugged. “To be honest, no one asked you.”

“To be frank, I didn’t talk to you.”

“Sure, kid.”

An excited smirk wormed its way to Fushimi’s face when the camera picked up a footage of the Jungle redhead somewhere nearby. It had been such a long time since the last time he saw Misaki, which was admittedly less than a week but let not pay attention to details, and he couldn’t help but bounce to his feet, promising himself some fun time.

Only, he wasn’t fully prepared to comprehend that the one who had fun wasn’t him.

“Who the fuck are you, bunny freak?” Misaki frowned, green electricity flashing around his fists. “Try to beat my King again? Too bad, Nagare-san is somewhere safe from your fake gold nails.”

“Who— I was gone for 5 days and you already don’t recognize me, Mi~sa~ki? Are you that much of an idiot?” Fushimi, feeling pissed off by the unexpected turn of event, raised his hand with the attempt to do the typical flashy glasses thingy, however, the smooth mask decided to be naughty and slid his glasses even further down his nose.

Misaki blinked.

Then all but roll on the floor laughing.

“P…..Pfft! SarUHiKO, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! What the actual fuck, Saru, Oh my GOD, haha, ough wait a sec my stomach hurts!”

“S-Shut up, Misaki! That was—”

“Bunny monkey, what the hell, Saru, haha! And what the deal with wearing glasses outside a fucking mask, that’s just weird. If you like bunnies so much you could just say so! No need to go as far as pulling a betrayal show just to wear it, really.” Misaki raised his PDA, still laughing like a mad man. “Oh God, I have to take a picture for Nagare-san! Come on Saru, strike a pose!”  

“STOP LAUGHING. I joined the clan of the Gold King who ground your precious Hisui Nagare to mince, shouldn’t you be damn angry right now?”

Misaki narrowed his eyes a bit. “Che. You have a point, filthy traitor.”

_Oh. This worked, this worked~_

“Riiiight~ as if the eternal virgin who is satisfied with living in a fake room underground feeding a zombie King and a bird has anything to say.”

“Bastard…Shut your mouth or I’ll—I’ll kil—Pfft, hahaha, sorry, sorry, is that a _tail_?”

“TCH! Won’t you just focus on the main thing here Misaki?”

“But, but…The fluffy TAIL, tho!”

“…If you want to stare at my ass so much, you could just say so.” Fushimi smirked, swaying his hips a little. This had gone in a totally weird path, but he would take whatever he could to rile Misaki up…in whatever way.

Darn, it sounded so wrong, with or without context.

“I-I’m not staring! Pervert bunny monkey! Stop wriggling that thing already!” Blushing to his ears, Misaki swung the green-coated bat to Fushimi’s side as a terrible excuse of a first attack, the other hand trying to tear the tail off.

“Oh? I see you are trying to take my uniform off by force. I don’t know virgin Misaki is so bold? I could probably help you with the process, you know, this uniform is too complex for you to strip me down after all.”

“Argh! Shut the hell up! Just - What the FuCk, Saru! W-We are in public! Fuck, stop cutting your damn clothes you do know that Nagare-san installed some cameras here right!? Saru I said STOP goddamnit I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Haha, so? let your precious Nagare-san _see~”_ Fushimi knew he had just made yet another awful life choice, but eh, at least this one was fun. He would schedule his time for a 3-hour regretting session later.

**Day 6.**

“Fushimi-kun. I’ve heard your recent requirement for a new uniform. If you have so much displeasure about my formal uniform to the point of destroying it after three days, you should take a look at these less restricted clothes that may suit you better.”

“…Your Excellency, this is a playboy magazine.”

“Exactly.”

“………. I’m really sorry, Your Excellency. Please don’t do this to me.”

_30-hour regretting session, it is, then._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request from theotakufairy. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“…And the last S-class telekinesis strain is relocated to district 3 without any foreseen problem. For the time being, being her supervisor is Domyoji’s responsibility until she gets used to regular life.” Fushimi spoke in his most bored voice while flipping through the 30-page report which thankfully written by Akiyama _this_ time. “In short, we have fewer idiots to deal with in the centre, but a bunch of idiots will stick together out there and do god-knows-what for the rest of the month.”

“I see.” The blue king chuckled like he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. “Good job as always, Fushimi-kun.”

“I did literally nothing in this case.” Clicking his tongue, Fushimi turned away to glare at the door. Yep, he had been a little under the weather and had done nothing except petty stuff like negotiating with the strains, finding suitable locations, taking care of legal matters, oh, and threating Domyoji to finish the job properly.

“Is that so? I’m afraid I have to disagree.” Munakata smiled fondly, a hand moving up to pat Fushimi’s head. “You’ve done very well.”

“Please stop patting me.” Fushimi grumbled though not even bothered to make a move to push the intruding hand away, knowing nothing would stop his captain anyway.

The fingers on his head hovered around for a bit before setting themselves back to Fushimi’s head, as if Munakata was about to drop the act but quickly decided against it. An amused expression increasingly grew on the King’s face. An expression that, if Fushimi had to describe it by words, should be called “shit-eating smug”.

Pat, pat, another teasing pat.“There, there, Fushimi-kun.”

“Excuse me but what the hell are you doing captain.” It wasn’t even a question. “If you don’t cut it ou—!”

Before Fushimi even finished his sentence, a flash of red and white came crashing against him with the speed of light, and immediately dragged him away by the arm none too gently like he was a sack of potato.

“FUCKING MONKEY BASTARD!!!!!!!”

“M-Misaki!? Why are you here!?” Fushimi tried to yank his arm back with no avail. “Stop it! Let go of me!”

Yata didn’t even slow down, only briefly whipped around to yell loudly. “I was looking for you all this evening you workaholic jerkface! It’s almost midnight and you were STILL talking with that stuck-up guy like there’s no tomorrow, damn it!”

“I was _working,_ Misaki. One of us has to.”

“Working doesn’t require t-that!”

“What!?” Fushimi snapped back. He succeeded in freeing his arm, but now he was pulled forward insistently by the hem of his coat.

“The thing he did! THAT!” Yata stomped angrily through the dark, empty hall. The redhead had come here to retrieve Fushimi enough times to remember the way, though it was kind of irony to think about. “You’re going back home tonight. No objection!”

“Fine, fine.” Giving up on trying to escape, Fushimi bitterly allowed himself to be lead around. Sometimes Yata just had the weirdest behaviors with the weirdest motives. He rolled his eyes dramatically, even though the corner of his lips was slowly on the way to form a little smile. “Still, I don’t know what the heck do you mean by ‘ _That’_. You ought to be more specific, Misaki, or is your language skill really that bad? If you find my King annoying, just say so instead of throwing a tantrum.”

Somehow, the blind shot in the dark hit Yata hard.

The redhead stopped dead in the tracks all of a sudden, head hanging low, teeth gritting, and hands shaking just a little. Everything fell so eerily quiet that it’s  an absurd contrast with all the shouting just a moment before. Fushimi stared at his boyfriend in confusion, for once didn’t quite know what to do.

The weird silence happened for a grand total of fifteen seconds, then just as abrupt, Fushimi’s head was given a good tug downward. Before the all-too-brilliant genius could process what was happening, his hair had been messed up by poorly placed pats and strokes.

Fushimi blinked. What.

Yata was patting his head. Quite aggressively, he might add.

Double what.

“Stupid Saruhiko and stupid king and stupid work and stupid method of praises what the fuck it’s kind of creepy isn’t it and it’s fucking midnight who’s in their right mind keeps someone around at night to do shit that I don’t get to,” Yata kept tapping on Fushimi’s hair as if he was playing drums, rambling with bright red face and all. “Goddamn it, lower your head more you shitty extra long baguette.”

Now that’s a new comparison.

“Wait a minute.” Fushimi’s lips slowly stretched into a smirk as understanding dawned on him. “Are you jealous?”

“NO! Why should I!?”Yata roared. The intense blush rapidly climbed into his ears and down his neck.

“Mi~sa~ki is feeling jealous.” Fushimi singsonged, purposefully choosing his most annoying tone ever for further effects. “Jea~lous~ of the captain because he’s tall~ enough to touch my head?”

Yata’s next pat came harshly enough to pass it as a hit in the head. “FUCK NO! What does height even have to do with anything? Okay, maybe a tiny fraction but NOT THE POINT!”

“Oh, it’s not? What’s the point, then, Misaki?” Nudging back to the hand that still rested on him, Fushimi practically purred into his boyfriend’s ear.

“I just don’t want him t-t-to…to!! ARGH! You want to trick me into telling I’m jealous of him touching you since you’re mine? No way I’m gonna fall into your trap!”

Fushimi bit his lips to prevent an insane laugh from escaping his throat. That was just plainly adorable.

“Don’t worry Misaki~” He definitely purred again this time. “I’ll let you pet me anytime. Even _somewhere_ else, happy?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request from an anon. 27. “Marry me?” with sarufem!mi

Despite being a girl, there were only three times Yata Misaki had ever played house.

The first one was mostly due to curiosity. She simply wanted to try because every girl in the kindergarten like that kind of game. She joined, claiming herself to be the head of the house but soon was told that there was nothing for her to play if she kept that position. After all, the kindergarten was for the poor children and the playhouse only had a kitchen room and a room for baby.

Misaki remembered that she was told to not bring the hero sword into the kitchen. She was told it was better to pick up a baby and put it into a cradle. She was told that her husband should be home soon, and she should cook something nice.

Was fun to call herself a wife and a mother? Was it fun to take care of the house, cook dinners, and feed the baby? Was it better than exploring the city on a bicycle or having a mock fight by the riverside?

The answers were no, no, and hell no.

Misaki dropped the game as soon as an unfamiliar girl came to play with her and instructed her to “act more like a lady and serve this dish to your husband”. The husband in mention was imaginary, of course, but Misaki got very angry and broke the toys nonetheless. The other girls cried. She felt bad, but she wouldn’t apologize and didn’t want to.

The second time, she was much older and it was more or less a punishment game. Homra was a bunch of rowdy guys and there was this weird gamble every now and then about who would end up have the highest kill count (no, it was mostly about hitting people and destroying properties. They didn’t kill unless absolutely necessary, but “kill count” sounded cool). The rule was really simple, like any childish game middle school students like to play. The loser had to do whatever the winner said.

By the official 12th round, Misaki lost for the first time. She called bullshit because that week she stayed stand by in the bar, but no one listened. It was just a silly fun deal after all, they said.

“I dare you,” Chitose gave his stupid shit-eating womanize grin, voice getting all disturbingly silky.“…to greet Fushimi when he comes back by _that_ famous housewife catchphrase!”

“No fucking way! Why Saru? And what the heck is a h-housewife catchphrase?”

“You know, that sentence? _‘Welcome home, dear! Would you like dinner? A bath? Or perhaps…me?_ ’~~ Come on, you two live together, you’re practically married! Imagine his usually gloomy face when a _girl_ says that to him! ”

Misaki threw a whole table in Chitose’s face and stomped out of the bar.

“You’re an idiot, Misaki.” Saruhiko said the moment he opened the door. “That’s exactly why I said nothing good would come out of that stupid bet.”

She didn’t mention anything to him, yet somehow the guy knew about it anyway. Must be Totsuka’s doing.

“Well…I didn’t think I’d lose…”

“Now you do.” Saruhiko stated the fact dryly. “And you’re gonna pretend to be a fucking housewife. To me. What a joke. Can you even do it?”

Misaki wasn’t someone who would chicken out even if she hit the dead end. So, she slapped herself slightly for courage, straightened her back, and tried to look at her best friend’s eyes as she stumbled over her words. “W-welcome home d-de-dear, would…w-would you like…”

Misaki wasn’t like most girls. She knew she didn’t cut out to be a wife.

She should haven known that Saruhiko certainly wasn’t like most guys, either.

“Stop. It’s disturbing.” He glared. Cold eyes, cold voice, expression as harsh as a December’s night. “I hate playing house. Fake things are nothing but a waste of time. I’d rather die than being involved in stuff like that.”

It shouldn’t have hurt.

But it did.

The pain lasted for years and wouldn’t leave. Not until years after they moved back together again.

“I still remembered it. You’ve always been so damn cynical.” Misaki snorted to herself when thinking about the past. Her hands fidgeted around a pair of silver rings, which cost her more than a month worth of salary. “You wanted permanent proofs but you didn’t like to make commitments. We had been together for so long, but you could never so much as to utter those important words… Such a troublesome guy. Can’t be helped, huh? We’re both stubborn idiots. Now, seems like I have to step up and be the one who does all the works.”

“Hey, Saruhiko.” Misaki placed one of the rings besides Saruhiko’s fingers. “Marry me?”

She smiled. There, she said it, finally. Nothing haunted her more than the things she didn’t get to say clearly, but  at the same time, no one else should understand how much it took out of her.

“I’m sure you’ll accept it, right, Saruhiko?”

She remembered. Their promises. Their laughs. Their tears. Their conversations. Their friendship. Their hatred. Their love. 

Their precious, precious memories.

“I’m not playing around, this time. But…you,” Misaki put the other matching ring on her ring finger, scratching invisible lines around it as if to make sure of its existence. She blinked the tears in the corner of her eyes away, unaware of how they dropped like a silent autumn rain on the white chrysanthemums that Saruhiko’s unmoving hands were holding. “You would call this a pretending game anyway, wouldn’t you?”

In the end, Misaki guessed she didn’t have to be a wife, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request from an anon. 28 “I’m pregnant.” with Sarufem!mi

Misaki fixed her growing long hair into a braid, trying to pretend that she was busy with something and not at all enjoying the sight of her husband tearing his hair out of frustration. It wasn’t every day she got the VIP seat for such a unique comedy.

“Don’t you laugh.” Saruhiko muttered darkly as soon as he caught her amused eyes. “I’ll wait for the day _you_ have to shop for infant formula.”

“Unlike a jerk that I know,” Misaki stuck her tongue out childishly, “I actually can stand the existence of milk.”

“You won’t when the baby leaves too much of it and you have to drink the rest.”

Misaki pretended she didn’t hear any of that, instead focusing on the trolley that Saruhiko was pushing. Inside it was… literally a lifetime worth of vegetables. Carrots, lettuces, broccolis, peas, turnips, and so on.

“You forgot spinach and tomatoes.” Misaki smirked wickedly, clearly drunk on the power she was having on Saruhiko right now. “I can’t make spinach salad without them, idiot.”

There was a very soft mumble that sounded suspiciously like “fuck salad” coming from Saruhiko’s pouty lips, and Misaki’s smirk widened. Heh, how she loved having the upper hand every once in a blue moon.

“Saruhiko. You know I’m _craving_ it and I won’t cook _anything else_ but all kinds of spring salads. In fact, today’s dinner consists of nothing but _vegetables._ ”

“Why. The. Fuck. Mi—sa—kiiii.” Saruhiko groaned. His face already paled to fit the greenish background that was the little bandwagon of veggies.

“Because I said so. Don’t like it? Feel free to go outside…” Misaki purposefully tapped her almost noticeable 4-month belly. “…and let us eat alone, well? It’s not like you have to take the responsibility or something, nah, Sa—ru?”

If life had background music, right here and now there would be a loud bang and an obnoxious voice claiming HEADSHOT ringing in the air.

Misaki could barely hold back a laugh when her husband very reluctantly picked up a pack of spinach with the most disgusted face ever in the entire human’s history. “Fine. Whatever. Being stuck with you and a child means I’m doomed in every way possible anyway.”

“Oh? And remind me just who was it begged me to teach him how to take care of a child because he didn’t know one shit about it but didn’t want to lose either of us, again?”

“…Tsk. Don’t make things up, Misaki. I didn’t _beg_.”

Misaki shrugged. “And who was it that refused to even touch me at first and spilled some craps like ‘what if it breaks?’ Who?” She saw some nice tomatoes in the next loft and threw like a dozen into the trolley, ignoring how Saruhiko sneakily putting half of them back. “Scratch that. Even now you’re hesitated to do it. It’s your fucking child, for god’s sake.”

Saruhiko sighed his infamous long-suffering sigh. “It pains me to admit, but when you get like this it’s actually kind of scary.”

“Saru. I’m pregnant, not poisonous.”Misaki picked another bag of tomatoes up and checked the price.

“At this rate, you may as well be.”

The tomatoes were cheap, so Misaki threw it carelessly at her husband, who caught it flawlessly but with the expression of someone who was being burnt alive. Seemed like by now, he already came to the term that some battles were simply better to be lost.

Misaki grinned. The child was a blessing, alright, but if she had to suffer all kinds of annoying pains, she would make soooo damn sure to drag her husband along.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request from weakeninghope: "Im here. Always"

It started with a small noise in the middle of the night, when Yata Misaki was only ten years old.

It came from the wall behind his back, almost completely muffled which made it very hard to hear. Yata would never notice it if it wasn’t for his house was too silent and he was staring at the wall trying to figure out how to do his math homework. Confused, he strained his ears and focused on some spots where the noise might come from, carelessly scattering his notebooks around.

After several seconds, it came back. Louder, but only by a tiny bit.

It sounded like someone was knocking on the wall from the opposite.

Yata was about to scream when a soft, barely audible voice called out through the thin concrete wattles. “Anyone there?”

“Y-Yes.” He answered almost instinctively. The voice sounded like it belonged to a boy around his age, so Yata letting his guard down just like the naive child he was. “Wait, no, w-who’re you?”

The knocking noises ceased , instead, the voice immediately replied. “I’m your new neighbor.“

“O…Oh? Uhm, nice to meet you?”

“Likewise, Yata.” Whoever it was behind the wall chuckled.

“How do you know my name?”Yata titled his head, mildly alarmed.

“I saw the name tag.”

“O-Oh? You mean the family name on our address? Ok then! What’s your name?”

“I—”  Suddenly, from the other side, there was a tiny crashing sound, almost as if someone had opened the door way too violently. It was followed by what might be an argument, though the words were all muffled for Yata to recognize what they were. Several loud bangs and clatters echoed in the air, and then, everything stilled.

When Yata nervously attempted to strike a conversation again, only stagnant silence greeted him.

The day later, he knocked on the door of the next house, wanting to meet his supposedly new friend. An old, dangerous looking man opened it instead and yelled at Yata that what the heck, he didn’t have a son, go the fuck away already.

 

———————————————–

 

Some days later, the tiny knocking sounds came back, right before the clock stroke 10 p.m. “Anyone there?”

“Yes! Hello?” Yata enthusiastically answered, whipping around from where he was sitting against the wall to get his mouth and ear as close to it as possible. He had been waiting for the mysterious boy the whole time. He actually had come over the house next door a few times more but there was always nobody home during the day. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you!”

“Somewhere.” Somehow, the boy sounded tired. “Don’t do it. That man may think you’re interesting. If so, things won’t be pretty.”

“Who? Your father? Is he the crazy old man who kept saying he had no son? Or is he the one who interrupted us before?” Yata blinked.

“He found me.” The voice got eerily cold for a moment, then, just as absurd, returned to a normal, almost bored tone within seconds. “Don’t you have homework to do, Yata?”

Yata turned his attention back to the stack of books on his desk. He was already in pain just looking at it. “Riiiight… Don’t wanna, though. School sucks.”

“Sure it is.”

“I know right? Ah, hey, which school are you going to? It’d be cool if you turn out to be a transfer student at my school!”

The neighbor didn’t answer for several moments, only knocking on the thin wall. Yata guessed it was a gesture the other boy did when being absentminded.

“I wonder,” Finally, he replied. “That’s something should have happened.”

“I sure hope so! What’s your name?”

“My name, huh?” Another small pause. “I guess you can call me Fushimi.”

“If you do attend my school, find me! I’m at class 5-C! Let’s be friends!”

Yata wasn’t sure if his sudden offering was a good thing. Because, the moment he opened his mouth again to talk, the lights went out and he felt something crawl on his back. A breath brushed against his ear, along with a quiet chuckle that didn’t quite sound like it came from the other side of the house.

“Sure. I’ll find you, Misaki.”

He turned around violently, but there was nothing there but an awfully cold, cold wall.

When Yata told his mother what happened, she said that they had no new neighbor. The house next to them was abandoned for a long time, only some thieves and homeless people might take it as a temporary shelter.

 

——————————————-

 

The next time, Yata didn’t dare to answer the knocking noises.

“Misaki?”

How do you know my name, he wanted to ask.

“Are you there?”

Yata bit his lips and crawled under a blanket, trying to ignore everything. He would have come to his mother’s room, but he didn’t want to be a bother.

“I see. Next time, then.”

But.

The voice.

Fushimi’s voice, it sounded very…

lonely?

 

——————————————–

 

2 months passed, the whole blizzard thing didn’t stop. It always happened around night time, the same way. Knock knock, “Misaki?”

On a particular stormy day, Yata finally reached his limit.

“Say, who are you, exactly?”

Fushimi didn’t even bother to express some surprise upon hearing Yata’s response after such a long time. “I already informed you how I wished to be called.”

“That’s just your name.” Yata clung to his blanket which was wrapping around his shoulders tighter, as if it was a layer of armor. “I know you’re not…not…h-human.”

“Oh? Interesting. And just why did you reach that conclusion?”

Yata thought about the weird, totally spooky phenomenon the last time they talked. He wasn’t really sure if it did actually happened or was all in his head, now.            

“Well…” He stumbled over his words. “Mom said no one lives in your so-called house, and it does look abandoned during the day. And…odd things keeps happening whenever you’re around.” Like the light going out and cold winds and haunting knocks and muffled whispers, these typical horror movie stuff.

“Tsk.” Fushimi seemed to ponder on what he should say next. “You’re scared?”

Yata knew he should. The room was getting increasingly chiller.

“I don’t know. Not really.”

He really should, shouldn’t he? He’s gonna regret this, trying to befriend a lonely ghost is never a good idea.

“Don’t forget what you said, Misaki.”

Oh well.

“Heh. So, listen, today’s homework is really insane! I don’t even know what I don’t know. And that old hag of a teacher scolded me for coming late, but it’s not my fault! My alarm clock broke, I swear!”

“Isn’t it because you’re just stupid?”

“Shut up!”

Whatever. He would worry about it later, Yata grinned, now he’d got a friend to talk to.

 

———————————————————–

 

Tap. Tap. Knock.

“Uhm, yo, Fushimi! Are you there?”

“…I’m here.”

“Oh, oh! You’re really here! I’m a little nervous since this is the first time I call out to you, hehe. How’s it going? What’re you doing?”

“Bored. I’m wondering why it isn’t the end of the world yet.”

“You sure have it hard, huh.”

“Nah. I don’t really care, anyway.”

“Man, I think I get it. Being stuck between walls forever must be sooooo boring, soooooo tedious.”

“…Hm.”

“Hey, Fushimi!”

“What now?”

“Do you know that the blue sky represents peace and freedom? I’m thinking, if I could, I would even give you the sky!”

Laughter. Happy, childish laughter. Not the sad aura that always surrounded the ghost.

“You can’t just cut the sky and give it to someone, idiot Misaki.”

“T-T-That’s why I said “ _If I could_ ”, bleh!”

 

—————————————————

 

When Yata got into middle school, he met Fushimi Saruhiko for the first time. The same flat voice, the same cold attitude, the same speech pattern, the same last name.

But Saruhiko couldn’t be the same Fushimi. No, because the first thing that guy said wasn’t anything along the line of “Hey, I’ve found you, Misaki.”, but “You’re annoying. If you want gratitude, then ask somebody else.”Obviously no, because there was no recognition in his expression toward Yata’s voice. Absolutely no, because Saruhiko was a real person, made of flesh and bones and not a voice behind a wall.

However, regardless of everything, Yata was drawn into the other boy just like how he had been drawn into the strange ghostly neighbor.

At first, he blamed Saruhiko’s eyes. They were as blue as the summer sky.      

 

——————————————-

 

Fushimi took an awfully long time to come back, this time around. For some reasons, even when Yata knocked the wall and called out, the ghost hadn’t  answered. That’s why when Yata heard a tiny but telltale knock at last, he bounced on his feet like an over excited puppy.

“Misaki, are you th—”

“Finally!! I’m here! Hey, Fushimi, guess what!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue loudly, offended at the interruption. “Tsk. What is it?”

“I met someone cool a week ago! His name is Fushimi too, and he sounded exactly like you!”

“Ah.” The voice sounded as deadpan as ever.

“…What’s with that uncaring voice? Don’t you find it weird? Hey, do you think, like, maybe you have a twin brother or something!?”

“That’d be funny, actually.”

“Eh? Huh?”

“I assure you, that boy isn’t my brother.” Fushimi chuckled a little and tapped a quick random tune on the wall. It echoed in a very odd way, as though someone was tapping it right next to Yata. “By the way, sorry, Misaki. Soon, I think I won’t be able to meet you as often.”

Yata widened his eyes at the unexpected announcement. “What? WHY? No way! Where will you go!? Don’t tell me…you’ll pass on?”

“Don’t worry,” Fushimi hummed lightly as Yata stared at the bricks as though wanted to drill it apart. “We’ll be fine. I hope.”

“W-Wait! Fushimi!”

“See you around, Misaki.”

Yata yelled loudly, but once again found himself facing nothing but empty silence.

 

——————————————-

 

After that, Fushimi had only appeared for more or less a dozen of times, and now, he hadn’t come back for a long, long time as years went by. So long that Yata had forgotten bits and pieces about his mysterious friend and sometimes confused him with Saruhiko.

It wasn’t that bad, really.

One day, in his shallow sleep, Yata thought he heard a familiar little tap. He rolled onto his side, eyes blurry and mind slow, and suddenly his vision was filled with Saruhiko’s face and nothing else. That delicate face was illuminated by the pale moonlight, somehow proved that Saruhiko could be even more beautiful even if there was a slight frown on it. Yata blinked, remembered after a perplexed second that they were having a sleepover today, yet it didn’t slow his wildly beating heart down whatsoever.

Yata sighed and accused his sleepy state for the whatchamacallit feeling that was sparking in his chest. He slung an arm over Saruhiko’s thin body, watching the other boy’s frown slowly melted into a peaceful, almost happy smile. The redhead inhaled a lungful of air and fell into a deep slumber, feeling all safe and warm.

There wasn’t a single noise throughout the night but their rhymed breaths.

 

——————————————-

 

Yata really thought that it would continue like that forever.

 

——————————————-

 

It was a slow day for the bar’s business, so most of the red clan’s members were gathering together and fooling around with some kind of vaguely perverted game.Yata was too much of a virgin to win any round, so he angrily stomped away and sulked in the corner (after beating at least three guys to the edge of their life, of course). Only then, he realized that Saruhiko had gone somewhere at some points unknowable to him.

It had happened quite a few times recently, Yata mused. What’s wrong with that guy? Saruhiko was…

All of a sudden, a knocking sound came from the wall right behind his back. Yata freaked out so much he almost screamed out of terror, though successfully held his voice inside at the last second. The sound was much sharper than that in the past, and the sheer feeling of something presence in or just outside the wall was a mix of iciness and heavy pressure.

“Long time no see, Misaki.” The familiar voice greeted him, still so absurdly like Saruhiko’s it made Yata’s hair at the neck stand on end. “Though I should add that it’s not actually that long. Not even long enough.”

“F…Fushimi? You’ve returned!? I’m so glad!” Yata whispered, trying to hide from the rest of the clan. He pressed his left side to the concrete layer despite all the cold and uncomfortableness. “But, hey, how can you find me? How can you even appear? I mean, it’s broad daylight and this isn’t even my house!”

Fushimi took a few moments of ominous silence before answering. “What do you think? I’ve gotten stronger.”

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter.” There was a very light tap echoed somewhere just above Yata’s heart. It sent a tiny shock run through his blood for just a fraction of a second.

“But—”

“You don’t sound very happy. So even I am not welcomed at all?”

“Of course you are! I just—!”

“Yata-san! Are you ok?” A big hand clapped on his shoulder, startled Yata the second time in a day. He looked up to Kamamoto stood there staring at him in concern and curiosity and Anna hot on the big guy’s tail. “What’re you doing? Why are you talking to the wall?”

“A-AH? Eh, nothing! I…I was just thinking and accidently talking out loud!” Yata laughed sheepishly, scratching his neck as he always did when he was lying. Kamamoto gave him an all-over puzzled look but thankfully didn’t ask further.

Anna, on the other hand, stared at him unblinkingly for a long moment and then told him to come home, Saruhiko was waiting.

 

——————————————-

 

Fushimi had come to visit a lot. Sometimes in days, sometimes at nights. Sometimes in the bar, sometimes in Yata’s apartment, sometimes in very random places. It was indescribably hard to not act like a mental patient with the amount of time he spent talking with walls.

One day, Yata heard a knock when he was talking with Saruhiko about how awesome Homra was. He almost bit his tongue out of surprise, because Fushimi had never appeared when Saruhiko was around. He looked at his best friend for any disturbance, secretly hoping that Saruhiko could sense his other mysterious friend.

But instead, what he saw was a pair of very, very dull eyes.

“Saruhiko? Are you listening to me?”

“….Hm? Done spilling rubbish already?”

The blue eyes sparked back to life.

The noise stopped.

Yata had a feeling that he had been missing something very important.

 

——————————————-

 

The sun had gone down by the time Yata reached his apartment.  

Yeah, all his now. All this empty space. Was this room always this large?

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was mad. He wasn’t supposed to cry, alone and in silence, curling into himself and knocking on the wall like a maniac.

“Fushimi, are you there?”

“…”

“Hey? Aren’t you the one who always seeks me out?”

“…”

“Talk to me. Don’t just selfishly decide to up and leave…”

“…”

“Fushimi…Saruhiko?”

The sad, heavy presence of Fushimi was definitely there, perfectly back-to-back with Yata. Still, there was no reply.

 

——————————————-

 

“I know you are there.”

Yata breathed in the crisp snowy air of winter. The weather was freezing, however, he was used to a coldness that was much scarier.

“You think I don’t notice? You’re with me all the time, now. Why is that?”

The street lights above him flicked on and off. It should haven been scary if not for the fact that Yata knew it was due to Fushimi being annoyed.

“I don’t really understand, even until now. I think so much about it, I swear I do, but I can’t figure things out to save my life.”

He knocked on the door nearest to him. It was an old, creaky, dusty door, something truly belonged to an abandoned building.

“I do know one thing, though.”

As he expected, the door wouldn’t budge an inch.

“You ARE Saruhiko, aren’t you? However, Saruhiko doesn’t know about you. Not consciously, at least.”

Yata summoned the power inside him and took a deep inhale.

“What are you, exactly?”

There was light chuckle ringing through the whole place. “Oh, Misaki. Could you try a little harder?” Fushimi’s voice was clear to hear for the first time after what might be months since Saruhiko’s betrayal. “Go figure it out yourself.”

Red, red, the fire exploded as Yata swung a violent kick into the door, forcing it open with a loud bang. He growled in his throat, feeling the anger and pain and confusion inside mix together into a terribly bitter poison.

“Heh. Thank for the hint. Fuck you too.”

——————————————-

 

It was swelling badly, the injury he had gotten from Saruhiko’s infamous knives. Their fight today had gone a little too far, it was a miracle both of them were still alive. Yata didn’t know how the other guy was doing, but he himself was only barely conscious right now. The high fever didn’t help the pain one bit.

There might be a pleasantly frosty palm placed on his forehead while he was drifting in and out of slumber, Yata wasn’t really sure.

There might be a quiet knock and a choked-up apologize mumbled right to his ear, Yata thought.

There might even be a kiss. Or not.

Either way, he smiled and sleepily pressed his side to the wall next to his bed through all the night. It still felt all warm and safe.

 

——————————————-

 

Fushimi showed up only once since Saruhiko disappeared.

All he said was “I have things to do, but still, come and chase after me.”

Yata had never tried so hard to understand one single sentence in his entire life.

Maybe…?

 

——————————————-

Knock.

“Oh. OH. OHH!”

“…What now, Misaki? Screaming in the middle of the night, have you gone crazy?” Saruhiko muttered in pure irritation, right hand rubbing his sore eyes due to being rudely woken up. His left hand had unfortunately fallen asleep under Yata’s head.

“I finally got it!” Yata beamed. “Hey, you’ve just had a nightmare, right?”

“…What the heck. No. What does that have to do with anything?” Saruhiko grumbled, head already turned away to avoid eye contact. “Go the fuck to sleep, Misaki.”

“Gzee, hush now.” If Yata truly thought about it, it was kind of obvious, really. He smiled brightly, and, without so much as a warning, pulled Saruhiko into a tight hug. “Fushimi…Saruhiko. You’re not lonely anymore. I’m here, always.”

Yata could feel a tiny laugh coming from the warm walls. And then, no more knocking. Only the sounds of Saruhiko’s quickened breaths and chaste touches of a surprise kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION PLEASE, SPOILER WARNING. This is a snippet of Dancing on glass shoes chapter 5 (Yes, you read it right. I'm still writing it, don't worry, I'm just very slow...^^") It fits this week's onedayK theme: age swap, so I thought "Why not, throw this out so people know I'm alive." Anyway, SPOILERS WARNING. If you really don't want spoilers on DOGS chap5, please don't continue!

“Yata-san! Fushimi-san!”

Yata sat up and groaned loudly as the smoke slowly faded. He was lucky to dodge the sneak attack by half a hair. Not very sure if he could handle another shameful show of himself in front of the whole three clans...no fucking way again, thank you very much.

Stupid Neko and her ferret friend, causing so many troubles like this...The silver King really should keep her in check more strictly. Her illusion and the ferret strain’s memory-infiltrating power were both highly formidable, and absolutely shouldn’t be used for naught. Which they were totally doing, with the way they stole everyone’s most embarrassing memory and projected it by illusions like a goddamned video.

“Ugh. Just who will be the victim this time…” He sighed for the umpteenth times. At this rate, he would learn this bad habit from Saruhiko, just great. “Saru, are you okay?”

There was no answer.

“Uhm, hey? Fuck. Don’t tell me...”

Suddenly, a strong gust swept over the big group, making all the pinkish smoke disappear in an instant. Yata blinked rapidly, had to take a moment to process the sight in front of him.

Appeared in the middle of the street was a little child, only 6-year-old at most. Skinny, old-fashioned glasses, typical hair style, no doubt this was a memory replay of Saruhiko.

But, it was different to everyone else’s.

The child was kneeling on both knees next to a burning heap of what might use to be an anthill inside a glass box. And he...was crying.

It wasn’t like Kamamoto’s childish cry, or Hidaka’s tearfully nervous eyes. This kid’s face, Saruhiko, wasn’t just a face of someone being embarrassed, but it was downright heartbreaking. Tears flowing uncontrollably, teeth gritting tight, expression changing from bewilderment to pain to utter helplessness. All of them were so, so, so unfit for a child this young to wear. It was the kind of crying when someone was abandoned by the whole world.

"Don't die, please, please...there must be some that survive..." The little Saruhiko cried out. He dug into the still smouldering mess of dirty soil and broken glass shards, frantically picking up the barely alive ants, even though both his small hands were cut and slightly burnt. "I'm sorry, it's my fault. My fault, mine, just like the rubik, I should have known..."

Everyone fell into a shocking silence, stared at the display without even dare to produce a single sound.

Yata had no choice but to watch it continue, just like years ago when he had to stand uselessly by the side and watched his best friend risking his own soul. He swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the bitter lump in his throat. Besides him, Munakata and Anna were both narrowing their eyes in unexpected unison.

“W-why?” The little Saruhiko choked out, voice muffled by still running drops of tears. “Da...”

Tap, tap. The boy's eyes widened as he looked up violently as a pair of feet approached him in an odd childish little dance. An ominous shadow loomed over Saruhiko's small frame, but its owner's half upper body was cut off due to the limited vision of the replay. Even so, anyone with eyes could tell that the scene looked awfully like a cruel cat playing with its pitiful prey.

And then, came the laughter.

Horrible, horrible, insane laughter. It rang in the air so loudly but so distortedly, almost as if it was trying to stick itself into Saruhiko's mind like a brain disease.

"Oh, you're crying, crying! My little monkey is crying, how cute!" The twisted words were squeezed out between laughs. Those sounds gave Yata a chill deep in his bones, making him involuntary shudder.

That man.

_Ah, of course._

Saruhiko only stared up, baby blue eyes blurred over by fear and a thin layer of water when it shouldn't be that way at all. The kid gulped down a heavy sob, shrinking back a bit as though being pricked, and tried to hide the recused ants behind his back. Sweating. Trembling. Yet, the hands that were holding those weak tiny creatures were gentle.

Fushimi Niki remained standing tall and looking down upon his own son. "Why, you asked? Because it's fun to play with you, of course!" Another sickening laugh. The man stepped a foot on the ruin, intentionally flicked a big cockroach ahead. It landed just inches in front of Saruhiko's kneels. "Hey, why the long face? You don’t like my present? Don't you know? There is a certain beauty in broken things."

"I-it's not." Saruhiko shook his head fast. "You destroyed my ant hill!"

"Ahaha, the beautiful ant hill! My monkey's precious, precious thing! Bam, doesn't fire give it a nice colour? Like fireworks! Hey, why don't you bring some friends over so we can all play with them?" Fushimi Niki lowered his head to tease, allowing his face to enter the picture. Most people gasped at their striking familiarity, and Yata took it the hardest, only now noticing just how the Saruhiko after their separation looked like this asshole. "It'll be fine as long as you can protect them, right? Doesn't it sound like a fun game?"

The child jointed visibly, almost falling backward from terror. Not a word escaped his lips, but his expression screamed the loudest. Fire and black smoke reflecting in his eyes, he had already believed that every good thing he might have would be destroyed, no matter how desperate he protected it.

"Well then, won't you show me what you're hiding, monkey?" Crooked smirk, from ear to ear, growing overlarge.

_Scary._

"I..." Saruhiko shrunk even more into himself. Cold sweats running down his forehead, chest heaving, and mouth opening with rapid gasps, Saruhiko was clearly hyperventilating with the way his breaths came out all ragged and shallow. The child tried to stay bravely still, but gravity seemed to doom on him as his head slowly stooped lower until he almost bent over to the floor, like an old rag doll losing its support.

“Haha!” Fushimi Niki’s laughter only sounded even more cheerful, as though all this was a brilliant comedy and he loved it with every fiber of his being. “Ahaha, yah hahaha!”

Yata wanted to throw up. After killing that man, that was. And, more than anything, the redhead wanted to stop this madness and wrap his arms around Saruhiko, shielding the young boy from any harm. Then again, this was all in the past, what had been done and had left damage forever. What could he do? There was nothing he could do. Yata tasted blood in his mouth and for the very first time in his life, he was truly, wholeheartedly glad that someone had died.

“So noisy.” Suddenly, a woman’s voice resounded from somewhere that wasn’t in the limited vision. Yata had never heard this voice, however, he knew she should be Saruhiko’s mother.

“Morning to you too, Kisa.” Fushimi Niki stopped laughing, though his tone was full of amusement.

Clink, clink. The sound of heels gracefully walked on a marble floor.

The young Saruhiko looked up instantly upon hearing it, breaths still straggle and eyes still swollen red with wetness. For a fleeting moment, he mouthed a word that didn’t come out properly as if he had never said it before and didn’t know how to pronounce it.

The clinking sound was getting smaller. Saruhiko got a slight panic look in his eyes as he turned toward the source of noise, raising his right hand up instinctively.

The hand that was holding his dear, dear, dying ants.

They were falling. Tiny black dots, like dirty dust in the air.

“Stop making such a worthless mess so early in the morning.” The feminine voice echoed.

That and nothing else. No more noise, no more clink-clink, without so much as a trace that she had ever been there.

Saruhiko let his arm fall, too.

“Oh my, oh my.” Fushimi Niki whistled. “You gave up on them. How pathetic. Such pitiful creatures, betrayed by their owner. Hey, if they could think, what would they think of you? If they could talk, they must have been screaming!”

“…--t up.”

“How funny! How interesting! My little monkey never fails me! Hey, let’s play more and more and more and more, it’s so much fun!”

“Shut up!” Saruhiko growled. A sound that no 6-year-old should know how to make.

“Uh-oh, my little monkey is yelling at me, scary.” The man shrugged. “Don’t wanna play anymore? But, but, no fun! I created you just for this.”

“Get lost! Die! I…Somedays, I— , someone...”

“Someone?” A chuckle. It felt like a curse. “No one will ever come, you know. Do you really believe in soulmates? Are you waiting for something that isn’t going to happen? Monkey really can’t think very well, can it? How embarrassing!”

Saruhiko’s shoulders tensed up for a brief moment before he slowly pushed himself back on his feet. With eyes completely dull and dark, he brought his left hand forward. On his palm, there was still a dozen of weak, barely moving ants.

“…Right.”

The child had never stopped crying and now even now tears were falling freely down a visible trail. However, as he stared up, his helpless expression was added in not only intense anger and hatred but also determination.

And then, he clenched his fingers. Very tight. Enough to scratch blood out of his pale thin skin.

More than enough to crush all the ants that had left.

Fushimi Niki grinned.

“That…really was embarrassing, wasn’t it.”

Letting the crumpled black dots drop, Saruhiko bit his lips and stood straight up, all by himself.

And the memory stopped there. Black and white strips crossed all over the illusional replay, momentary blinded everyone. When they could open their eyes again, stood alone in front of them was the 23-year-old Saruhiko. Who, despite already being sent back to reality, looked like he had just lost everything again.

_“What exactly happened to you?”, “Who were the ghosts? What did they do?”, “What is it that makes you so afraid?”, “Why have you gone such an extreme length in everything?”, “Tell me. How can I understand you if you refuse to say anything?”, “Say something!”_

Ah. Now that Yata had the answers.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to update my new year drabbles, so here they are. This is inmi-marino's prompt: sexy Misaru drabble, but with fem!Saru.
> 
> NSFW alert!

Yata wondered, wondered, and wondered why Saruhiko would do this, why she would let him do this to her, or even why this was happening at all.

“Don’t peek.” She whispered, quiet like an echo resounded from the distance and oddly calm. “Consider everything’s a rare gift from me.”

“I-I wouldn’t call being….b-blindfolded a gift.” Yata stuttered, tripping one word over another as he felt a cold, delicate finger slid slowly up his neck and to his jaw. “S-S-Saru!?”

A short moment after, a noiseless weight came down to his laps, surely implying that Saruhiko had just straddled him. The finger on his chin scratched just a little bit, forcing Yata to raise his head up. Even in the darkness, he felt like all kinds of colours was burning to gold and passionate red, as a chaste kiss was granted upon his chap lips.

“You’re allowed to touch.” Saruhiko breathed the alluring words into the corner of Yata’s mouth, and the redhead couldn’t help but twitch and shudder in nervousness. As if sensing his uneasiness, Saruhiko deliberately grabbed both of Yata’s arms and placed them around her bare hips, which immediately brought a fiery blush on his face. “Heh~ You’re such a virgin, Misaki. It’s kind of amusing. And cute, actually.”

For once, Yata didn’t shoot back an argument, mostly because he couldn’t even think about anything else that wasn’t the cool, slender body of the girl in his arms. Saruhiko was always cold and out-of-reach, like an expensive doll in a high cabinet, and it was blizzard to think that she could ever be his to touch.

“Is this really okay, Saru…?” It was an empty question, because even as Yata was speaking his hands had traveled up the other’s body, little by little, pressing lightly in such a way that he could feel Saruhiko’s thumping pulses against his fingers. To make sure she was real and everything was real, not something his mind foolishly made up in a blind dream.  

“Hmm…Misaki.”

Real, she was definitely real. Subtle curly line of the hips, thin yet smooth waist, slightly poking out ribcage, small but surprisingly firm breasts, elegant neck, all so incredibly sexy that Yata couldn’t help but be hungry for more. He could picture her so clearly in his mind. Tall, skin so pale it was akin that of a marble statue, long dark hair hugging her slim body like a personal guardian, purely…glorious.

Yata almost jumped when he felt a wet, warm sensation on his earlobe. It sent every single nerve in him on war, fire and electricity screaking under his skin. It ached, but an ache so good.

“Saruhiko. Please, take the tie off, Saruhiko, I–”

“No.”

It didn’t sound as cold as her usual voice, so Yata tried his luck again. “Argh! Why? Come on, Saru, you’ve allowed me this far.”

“No reasons. It’s more fun this way. Why don’t you just enjoy it, Misaki~?”

Yata grabbed the back of her head, fingers gently twiddling the soft dark strands as he pressed their lips together for a longing kiss. He let his tongue wander around Saruhiko’s bottom lip, silently asking for entrance and had his wish quickly granted. It was intoxicating, the way all his senses focused on her and her only, taking in her bittersweet scent, feeling her warm responsive flesh under his touch, tasting faint coffee and sweetness on her tongue. But not enough, no, not enough. “But I really want to see you, Saruhiko.”

“…Tsk. Fine.”

As soon as the tie got loosened, Yata snapped his eyes open wide, not caring to the least that he should pay a little time to adjust to the light. He was hefty rewarded, however, when greeted by Saruhiko’s beautiful flushed face and gorgeous naked body in his laps. Everything he had ever fantasied, and more and better. The sheer sight of her like this made Yata whimpered with uncontrollable want, already forgetting his little issue with girls – Saruhiko was just Saruhiko and nothing else mattered.

“…Happy now?” She hissed, a bit reluctant to discard the tie to the floor. Maybe she hated being exposed.

“Yes.” Yata grinned and held Saruhiko close, fingers swiftly danced down between her legs and sank into her, burning desire consumed him to the core. She threw her head back, bright blush spreading all over even to the tip of her ears, jaw and shoulders tense like a royal bow, and just… “Beautiful, Saru, you really are.”

To answer, she bit his lips harshly and covered his eyes again with her fingers.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brynne-lagaao's prompt: Happy domestic sarumi

Yata looked up from the TV when he heard the door opening with a soft click.

“Saru? Welcome home.”

“I’m dead tired,” was the first thing coming out of Saruhiko’s mouth, even before the guy properly closed the door, “I think I’m going to pass out.”

“What the heck!” Alarmed, Yata sprung to his feet just in time to catch a very sluggish on-the-way-to-fall-onto-his-face Saruhiko in his arms. “Hey! Are you okay? You’re not injured, are you? Did the blue King dump all the stupid overloading work on you again?”

“Hmmm…” Normally Saruhiko would avoid close physical contacts at all costs, however, this time he clutched at Yata’s shirt, face nudging into his collarbone like a big spoiled child. That was how the redhead knew shit was real. A cute clingy Saruhiko would only mean he was exhausted to the point his mind didn’t really work anymore.  

“Don’t just fall asleep like that, stupid Saruhiko. At least come over to the couch.”

“Uhm, ’k…” Saruhiko breathed a sleepy answer, all the while making no real movement besides wrapping his hands around Yata a bit tighter. In the end, Yata had to drag his troublesome boyfriend inside and threw him face down onto the couch none too gently, almost like how a farmer threw a sack of potatoes to the ground.

The fact that Saruhiko only whined in pain and not ranted a five-page-length complaint made Yata worried more than he would ever admit.

“For fuck’s sake, what the hell do you even do over there? You look like you’ve just paid hell a long visit.”

“Yeah. Satan is doing fine. Probably chilling with an insanely hard puzzle somewhere.” Saruhiko muttered sullenly, still lying on his stomach as though even moving a muscle was too hassle a job. “My head hurts.”

“Hah. I always knew that prick guy was fucking evil.” Yata sat down properly and placed Saruhiko’s head on his lap. There was a surprise jolt running through Saruhiko’s skinny frame, before he shifted a little to lie on his side and sighed, tense shoulders relaxing remarkably.

Something warm swelled in Yata’s chest as he looked down. His fingers itched with a sudden desire to tangle themselves in the blueish dark hair, to play with each strand and take away whatever messing with Saruhiko’s exhausted mind. And so he did, realizing that he had every right to pamper his big spoiled lover.

“Good job. You’re amazing, nah? Saruhiko of Scepter 4 really is the coolest guy.”

Yata thought he saw a glimpse of a smile danced on the corner of Saruhiko’s lips. It felt like sitting next to a bonfire on a snowy day, all cozy and contented and happy. It always felt like that when it came to Saruhiko, actually, as if that idiot had put a certain fire spell in his very soul. There were times when it roared a tainted red and burnt Yata down to ash, but Saruhiko always came back to lit it again, always ruthlessly kicked a way back to Yata’s heart whether he wanted to or not.

As he got more mature at the cost of blood and tears, Yata guessed he should appreciate that. It wasn’t easy to reach this point, with Saruhiko’s head on his lap peacefully and Saruhiko’s breathes slowly drifting into an even, sound-asleep rhythm.

He wouldn’t trade this for the whole universe, despite all the messes they had made in between.

Twisting his fingers around a particular stubborn lock of dark hair, Yata smiled, and placed a soft, loving kiss on it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fushimikuns's prompt: Sukuna dealing with his emotions and Anna realising there is More to how she feels about Gojou-san

Someone was crying.

Things like this had happened a lot before, Anna mused. With her being a Strain, randomly picking up a faint string of sounds from a stranger’s mind while walking on the street was nothing new. She had heard many things, had second-handed felt a lot of intense emotions – anger, regret, fear, sadness, longing – and there were days when she wondered if it was more of a curse than a blessing.

But this time, something about the quiet, almost forcefully suppressed sob pulled at her heartstrings so insistently it ached. Before Anna knew it, her feet had carried her to the source of the sound, strayed from her usual routine and wandered into a dirty deserted back lane.

Her world was only black and white and tints of red, yet for some reasons, she thought she saw a flash of green.

“Oh.” She blinked, and the colour was gone. In its place was a boy – leaning against the wall with slump shoulders, lips sliding downward into an irritated scowl, eyes dry and narrowing at his PDA.

Oh. As Anna heard another muffled drop of tears, she _understood_.

Twiddling the hem of her dress a little - not out of shyness or nervousness, but out of determination, Anna approached the boy carefully as how people step lightly around a wounded cat.

“Hello, Sukuna. What are you playing?” When the words came out of her mouth she hadn’t really expected the boy in question to look at her with uneasy, tired eyes before returning to his game without answering. The hushed cry she had heard until this moment went completely silent, as though its owner had a habit of shutting down his own feelings once there was someone coming close to him.

It felt kind of nostalgic, actually. Anna thought about the melancholy blue eyes of Saruhiko when he had still been a member Homra, and nodded to herself. She had grown up now, she wouldn’t – couldn’t let another person come to ruin like that without trying her best to reach out and help. Especially not when she was part of the reasons that pushed them to this state.

Sukuna’s PDA vibrated as a flashy screen popped out, declaring ‘Game over!’. He dropped it to the ground, not too harshly but enough to make an unpleasant noise, and scowled at her.  

“Leave, Red King. You had your laugh at my loss, hadn’t you? Did I deserve it? That’s debatable, I guess. Don’t think that just because you won a game then you can walk around bragging your arrogance like you own the damn world.”

“Sukuna. I didn’t laugh. There’s absolutely no reason to laugh at your pain.” Anna shook her head. “Please, don’t call it a game.”

“I will call whatever I want how I want.” He laughed. It sounded wrong, such bitterness in such a young voice, but Anna was no stranger to it.

“It’s not what you really think.  I know. When someone you love disappeared, it’s sad. It’s very lonely. There’s nothing you could do to change what has happened. But still, you have to continue to move forward, as they live on in your heart.”

Sukuna stared at her. For a brief moment, he looked like a lost child that he really was.

It reminded Anna of that day. Sitting side by side to Tatara in the park, listening to his earnest little talks, feeling protected, gaining hope. _“I think Anna will grow up into a great person.” Tatara smiled. “Just as us today, someday in the future, if you have something to offer, someone will learn from you.”_

It would be very difficult, Anna knew that. The moment she opened her mouth again to offer peace, Sukuna cut her off with a scornful sneer. “Shut up! Throw your fake pity out of the window already! Who do you think you are? A little girl in a frilly dress, talking as if you know everything and there isn’t a single person you can’t save just by a few pretty words.” His voice started to break down, just a little bit, and his eyes trembled in waves. “Game over is game over, even if I start over, it wouldn’t be exactly the same. Nagare, he was… He promised. An ideal world. He promised it, but then he’s gone, Nagare…”

“That’s why it isn’t a game. Even though it’s sad, we just need to carry on and create more and better memories. We are, after all, children.” Anna refused to give up. She held up a hand, offering it with all of her earnest soul. “I want to be your friend, Sukuna.”

The boy glared at her. Anna could sense the words that he was about to say. ‘Hypocrite. You are partially to blame. I don’t need your pity. Go away. Leave me alone.’ Yet, she stood firmly with out-stretched hand, never hesitant, never wavered.

“Stupid.” Sukuna sighed, picked up his phone as though he wanted to leave, but paused shortly after standing up. After a very long moment, he reluctantly raised a loose fist up and bumped it lightly at the tip of Anna’s fingers. “I hate you and your frilly dress, Kushina Anna.”

Anna curled her fingers to make another knuckle bump and smiled.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was bored on Twitter I asked people to play a fun card game made by Meru (melonflesh): https://www.cardcastgame.com/browse?search=author:coolcrow , and sent me random sentences as drabble prompts. All the drabbles are very short and silly, I didn't intend to upload them outside of Twitter but then I figured ehh, why the heck not anyway?
> 
> So here is the CRACK SAGA ٩( ᐛ )و Prepare to facepalm because of the STUPIDNESS ٩( ᐛ )و I hold no responsibility for your loss of brain cells ٩( ᐛ )و
> 
> The first 'prompt' is "I bet Yata’s hiding his sexy thin static eyebrows under that beanie"

**Take 1: "I bet Yata’s hiding his sexy thin static eyebrows under that beanie"**

 

“I see you guys had another productive day again, Kamamoto. So... what did Fushimi do this time?””, Totsuka stared at the unconscious men lying on the alley’s ground right in front of him. They were tangled together while being all bruised and bloody, looking uncannily like a total Van Gogh's master art. Their weapons were discarded, glasses askew, clothes…tattered and…missing some…very important pieces? Hm. Well, okay then.

The fat clansman shrugged unconcernedly. “Oh nothing, Totsuka-san. Apparently, eyebrows can commit an indecent crime.”

Totsuka touched one of his own eyebrows out of pure reflex. “U-umh, pardon?”

“They were fighting like mad men until the moment Fushimi ripped Yata-san’s beanie off. He shouted _“Now you are under arrest for public exposure”,_ Yata-san yelled back, and approximately 30 seconds later they went at it like rabbits.” Kamamoto poured what left of the five popcorn bags in his mouth at the same time. “Just the usual business.”

Trying not to make oh-I-see-youth-sure-is-nice face, Totsuka chuckled and lightly poked Fushimi’s shoulder with the tip of his shoe. “Fushimi is getting better at admitting his little… preference, huh?”

“That’s weird, right? That’s totally sick. I bet that’s exactly why Yata-san has to hide his sexy thin eyebrows under that beanie, haizzz.” Kamamoto sighed ad kneeled down to dreamily gazed at the vanguard’s face. “Such a straight-up pity... I mean, look at them!”

Totsuka was torn off between laughing and cringing, so he chose to simply smile brightly and question his choice of companion. “…Well,  if you ask me, I’m pretty sure Yata’s static eyebrows are the only thing straight in this whole thing.”

 

* * *

 

**Take 2: Munakata Reishi aka Fushimi’s sword**

 

“Sir, can I have my sword back now? Everyone received theirs already.” Fushimi grunted at the King, politeness or respectfulness be damned to hell at this point. “And by now I mean right at this fuc—ahem, right at this moment.”

Deliberately ignoring his subordinate’s request, Munakata continued to play his satanic 50000-piece puzzle of what looked suspicious like a porn star’s face. “My apologize, Fushimi-kun. Unlike other swords, Subaru is held back for further maintenance since he was damaged and tainted beyond explainable. He’ll be back to his rightful home tomorrow.”

“The heck? Why are you talking like it was a human being?” Fushimi clicked his tongue. He was ready to give up when suddenly a gleam of light flashed from Munakata’s glasses. “Eh, captain?”

Another flash, and those violet eyes slowly travelled down to Fushimi’s unoccupied belt.

........ Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit—SHIT.

“In the meantime, Fushimi-kun, I’d gladly be your companion until Subaru returned. I’ve heard that you use him very well in information obtaining process, and often reduce even the most feared criminals to tears. How curious. Knowing how a trusted clansman wields their sword is one of the King’s duty as well, I believe.”

Before Fushimi knew what had just happened, Munakata’s hand had calmly rested on his left hip. “Rest assured. Please allow me to be your sword for the day.”

\--- Welp, there it went. A whole fuck ton of unalloyed shit.

“Ugh, no thank, don’t need it, nope.” Fushimi tried to pry the hand off but it just wouldn’t let the fuck go.

“I insist, Fushimi-kun.” Munakata threw his idol smile card onto the table.

“NEVER ASKED YOU!”

“Don’t worry, the offer comes from my own free will.”

“That’s the problem! And stop groping me!”

“I’m merely doing what Subaru is supposed to do, Fushimi-kun.”

“No—“ Fushimi squinted his eyes for a few seconds, lips started to curl into a not so subtle smirk. “Oh, fine then. You want to know how I can make them all cry with just a nicked sword? It’s a ninja secret, but fineee, if you insist, I guess.”

And that was how Munakata Reishi, the fourth and Blue King, the captain of Scepter 4, the most intelligent man of the blue clan, used a sword to chop the 99th onion of the day with a look of purely amazed wonderment on his face.

 

* * *

 

**Take 3: You now what's cool? More beanies.**

 

Despite being too smart for his own good, there was a mystery in life that Fushimi never quite understood. It bugged him so much every day and haunted his dream every night, never left his mind alone, always being there with a big question mark dangling around. Someday Fushimi thought he would go insane just from thinking about it.

Yeah, he of course was talking about Yata Misaki’s definition of “coolness”.

In the beginning, things were pretty simple. Yata stepped up the swearing game and pushed the violence level to eleven – nice. Yata cut his hair messily shorter – okay. Yata changed his clothes into oversized shirt, thug-like shorts, stupid half-hoodie-half-cape thingy, and unplugged headphone for decoration – somewhat questionable but still fine he guessed.

But then came the beanie. The ugliest beanie in the whole beanies’ history of the beanies’ universe.

“Why, Misaki?”

“Because it’s COOL that’s why!!!”

Lack of fashion sense asides, Fushimi swore there was a serious, ungodly secretive thing going on with that shaped-after-a-bowl piece of black fabric. For whatever reasons, the beanie never flew off Yata’s head by accident in spite of all those crazy skateboarding moves. It never got wet and also seemed to be fire-proof. And, ultimately, it might be the only true permanent thing in this damn world.

Fushimi had tried to destroy that beanie countless times. He burnt it, threw it away, dumped it into the river, sent it to Africa by fast delivery, buried it twenty three feet under the ground, tore it to shreds with fifty six knives. But, somehow, the next day it was back on Yata’s head anyway. Exactly the same. Not a single fucking scratch.

It wasn’t until they moved in together again that Fushimi found out the truth.

Well, “found out” was the wrong word. It was more like “flooded to his neck by the truth that was the one hundred and sixty nine plus one exact same kind of beanies”.

“ _Why_ , Misaki?”

“Because you know what would be even _COOLER_? MORE BEANIES. ENDLESS BEANIES! BEANIES ARE LIFFFEEEEE!!”

 

* * *

 

 

**Take 4: Fushimi was found writing fanfiction about killing your friends with vegetables**

 

Another day, another stupid war with those veggie pursuivants. Hidaka may go to hell along with his spring salad. Tsk. Go on, try to serve healthy happy leaves and weeds to the devils. Satan may actually eat it.

Obviously, the only good use of cucumber is for choking someone. Shove it all the way down a living creature’s throat may cause breathing circulation disruption. Great. That is what I will do if Kamo tells me to eat it one fucking more time. There is something wrong about the mental picture but fuck it.

Also, broccolis are disgusting. They make me vomit. Wonder if they can make Domyouji vomit. That stupid guy like them, though. No matter. People should vomit if they were to force feed a whole raw broccoli. Serve him right for sneak all those evil greenish things in my pizza. Revenge is needed. I’m willing to buy a broccoli just for that. Tsk…Ugh. Nah, nevermind, it’s too hot to walk to the supermarket. I’ll just put him in knives picking duty for the next three months. Time to pick some fun fights with Misaki.

On the side note, what the fuck is the deal with all those carrots in the kitchen? We keep a horse, which is really stupid already, but not a thousand of rabbits like the gold clan, which is even more stupid. And carrots are red, they shouldn’t be in Scepter 4’s dorm. Who wanna stuff filthy red sweetish sticks in their mouth anyway? Tsk. Maybe Misaki. I should try that sometime. He so would swallow one if I tell him it’s actually a cool thing to do. He doesn’t even have a gag reflex. He drools a lot too. I don’t know why I know all that information. Hm. The mental image is wrong again but okay. Tsk. Whatever. Tsk. I don’t care about Misaki. Tsk. At all.

Tsk.

What other vegetables that have long thin shapes again--

“Fushimi-kun, may I ask what are you doing in the office this late at night?”

“…Writing a report, sir”

“Oya, I see. Good job today, Fushimi-kun. Please finish your work soon and take a nice rest.”

“Yeah, yeah. As soon as I’m done with this.”

“Very well. I’m certain that it is an…interesting report.”

“Tsk.”

In conclusion, Munakata should choke on an uncooked potato and die.

* * *

 

 

**Take 5: It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No! It’s Yata bottoming.**

 

“B-B-B-But—!“

“Stop squirming already.”

“W-Wait. I think I heard something weird! Som-something is outside the window!” Misaki screamed while gripping on the bed sheet for his dear life. His face was redder than a cooked crab and there was steam coming out of his ears. He was adorably out of his stupid sweater, but everything else had been staying intact for the last 15 minutes, which was freaking annoying considering what kind of business they was supposed to do.

“…Misaki.” Saruhiko sighed, wondering for the nth+1 times just why on earth he ended up falling for the proudest lord of the cherries. Sure, he joked about it a lot but it wasn’t nearly as nice being in the victim position. Maybe this was his expiation for all the rules he had low-key fucked.

“It’s true! I swear!” Throwing a pillow over his face, Misaki let out his absolute terror-stricken scream when a weird small sound echoed again.

“Pretty sure it’s just a freaking bird.” Saruhiko tore the pillow to shreds with his special move – rainbow party three knives of three colours.

“No, no, no! It sounds different!” L-Like an engine or something?” Without the pillow as his barrier, the redhead immediately got into panic mode and scrambled around to find something else that can be his new makeshift defence. “Yeah, sounds like a machine—“

“A plane?” The blue clansman supplied unhelpfully.

“NAHH! What if some stalkers are there???”

“Yeah, good job, consider your last excuse was that the TV was on so you felt watched by the people _in the movies_.”

“Shut up!” In the end, Misaki threw a blanket on and proceed to scroll himself into a burrito.

“Also, the one before that had apparently been ‘it was too cold to be naked’. I guess you can be pretty creative if you try after all.” Saruhiko rolled his eyes and span the burrito’s stuffing into the floor. “What’s next? An ant may see the proud vanguard getting fucked in the ass and dies bleeding his innocent eyes out so we may be charged for accidental murder?”

“WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH YOU!!!!!!????”

_Slash!_

Misaki gulped loudly and stared at the knife that had just been stabbed deep to the hill just half a millimetre away from his cheek.

“Seems like you still don’t get it, huh?” Saruhiko just _smiled._

“GG-Get the fuck away from meeeeeeeee!!! AND SHUT YOUR FUCKKKKINNNG M---!”

_Slash!  Slash!  Slash!  Slash!_

 “I’ve got bad news for ya. The fuck is coming and this time the fucking cannot be shut, Misssakkiiiii~~~!!”

Out side the window, the ghost of Totstuka snapped a picture with his ultra rare ghost camera.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a tiny little senseless something that I want to get out of my mind

Fushimi opened the door, stumbled into his room, and irritably threw his heavy saber on the bed. A surprised "Ah!" yelp echoed at the same time as a shadow scrambled to sit up. He didn’t spare a glance to the uninvited guest, only plopped onto the chair with a dull thud, without even bothering to turn on the lights.

 

“Hey, Saruhiko. You’re gloomier than usual. What's up?”

 

Gentle arms tentatively wrapped around his shoulders from behind. Steady breaths tickled his nape. Soft, but unpleasant, somehow. Fushimi kept his mouth shut, even when his stomach physically wrenched up and down with all the things he hadn’t said – and couldn’t say.

 

“Are you tired? You look kinda sad.”

 

The darkness, frosty and thick, seeped into his eyes like Indian ink. The embrace he was feeling was cold, colder than snakes crawling on his skin. Fushimi trembled slightly when those hands slowly moved up on his neck, feeling as if they were about to tighten.

 

For several seconds, he hoped they did.

 

“Can’t you guess, Misaki?” He whispered in a voice too quiet it was almost drowned in the sounds of his own heartbeats.

 

“Fine. Let me guess what ... Something bad happened.”  The shadow hummed slightly. A somewhat familiar tune, almost like a faraway echo of the past. “And that makes you feel like shit.”

 

“Good deduction skill.”

 

“Eh, thanks.”

 

“That’s not a compliment. Idiot.”

 

“Shut up, jerk.”

 

“Whatever.” Fushimi titled his head to the side, trying to lift the corner of his lips up. He couldn’t. He gave up soon enough. Misaki wouldn’t see it, anyway.  “You do know better, though.”

 

“Well, yeah, I know.” The bony fingers resting on his neck shivered. Nails scratched into his flesh, but with only the slightest force. A sign of pity, if he had to guess.  “You are abandoned, again?”

 

Fushimi closed his eyes. No answer for such an obvious question.

 

“Who the heck is it this time?” Misaki sounded a little angry. Snorting, Fushimi remembered that Misaki had always been sounding a little angry at any given time.

 

He leaned back slightly to the semi-hug, careful not to throw himself off balance. The fingers that were loosely wrapping around his neck moved again, slowly reached up to cover his still closed eyes.

 

“Do you want to cry?”

 

Fushimi turned those simple words in his mind. “No.” Turn them, stare at them, stretch them, dig into them, step on them, run from them, crash into them head first and scream, scream, scream. Exhausted, he cut the running astray thought short and muttered a not-answer, feeling just a bit more than emptiness but didn’t know what that ‘a bit more’ was. “I don’t know.”

 

Abruptly, he felt his body become weightless and hovering in the air. He fumbled in the darkness, looking for anything to grasp on. Then, a small hand grabbed his wrist, cold to the touch, but entirely his for the taken.

 

“Saruhiko, let’s go play somewhere.”

 

“I'm tired.”

 

“What else is new? Besides, that’s exactly why we should go. Come on, come with me.”

 

Fushimi fell silent, allowed his whole body to be pulled away, drift noiselessly in the air, as easy and gentle as soap bubbles.  They floated through the open window (always open, he never closed any doors, not anymore). The night was dark, no moon, no stars, not even some street lights.  There was only this dull darkness that was barely enough to see people’s form fade into ghostly shadows.

 

The city was falling into sleep, while monsters lurked in every corner, ghastly shades hovered on the ceiling, anomalous silhouettes drifted all over the sky. The trees swayed and creaked, the muddy mist dissolved in the air like a flow of ink.

 

But it was still beautiful.

 

Fushimi squeezed the hand he was clutching. Small, bony, strong, used to wear fire like gloves, yet somehow fit perfectly into his own hand.

 

“What's wrong?”

 

He didn’t make out Misaki’s face. A shade of shadow, a lump of darkness.  He vaguely realized that he had never really seen this person’s face, hadn’t he?  It was like this for as long as he could remember.

 

“Nothing. It’s too cold to be out here this late at night in winter.” He complained. He didn’t know how to say anything else.

 

A grin seemed to flicker across Misaki’s hidden face. “But it's also pleasant, isn’t it? The view is nice too.”

 

“Hmm.” His lips unconsciously curled into a smile.

 

Yes, it was chilly, but comfortably so. He lied down, relaxed, enjoying how his body become completely nothingness as he hovered over a drifting misty cloud. Yes, it felt good to let the cold of the night and of Misaki’s hand soothe his boiling blood. Yes, this was fine, so what if he was abandoned? So what if he was betrayed? He couldn’t care less. It was only a stupid promise.

 

(Promises weren’t supposed to be kept, after all).

 

“Misaki.” Fushimi tasted the name on his tongue. He couldn’t tell if it was bitter or sweet.

 

“What?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Ah? For what?”

 

“For being by my side.”

 

“Of course. I’m always staying by your side.  Always got your back, buddy.”

 

“That’s not what I meant. Tsk, whatever. Forget it, let's assume it was.”

 

The shadow laughed softly, then hugged Fushimi tightly in an unshakeable grip. He shuddered. Cold as ice, too sharp that it burnt, but it's pleasant, it's peaceful. An odd feeling, really, as if he was slowly sinking into the deepest of oceans. A pleasure that was as addictive as it was painful.

 

“Feel better?”

 

“Somewhat.”

 

“I’ll never betray you, never. I’ll stay with you forever for as long as you wish for me, Saruhiko.”

 

Fushimi cracked a laugh. “I...”

 

_Click._

 

The numbing cold suddenly disappeared. The night sky also vanished. He looked up. His dorm room. Empty. Bright. Awashima stood at the door and looked at him in bewilderment.

 

“Fushimi-kun, I called you several times but you didn’t answer. What are you doing all alone in the darkness?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

She didn’t buy it, he knew. Awashima frowned in what Fushimi interpreted as unneeded pity and nothing else.

 

“It’s almost time.” She said, caution dripping from each syllable. He hated it.

 

“I know. Just go ahead.  I’ll be there shortly.”

 

“Is that…ok?”

 

“Turn off the light before you go. Please.”

 

Awashima hesitant for a moment, but she did as being told. Not before she left a small paper bag at the door, though.

 

“Remember to take it, Fushimi.”

 

He rolled his eyes.

 

_Click._

 

Once again, he felt an icy small body pressed against his back. The shadow rubbed his head into Fushimi’s shoulders, giggling like a kid.

 

“I love you, don’t you forget it, stupid Saru.”

 

“Shut up, Misaki.”

 

“Nuh-uh.”

 

“I’m going.”

 

“Yeah, go. You’ll be fine. Go and try to be at least a little happy! Remember that I’m always right next to you!” The arms let loose, slowly, like Misaki was regretting to do so. “See you later, ok?”

 

Picking up the paper bag that was left for him, Fushimi stared at the note written on it for a long moment.

 

“Misaki.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I really hate going to a funeral.” He took a pill out and swallowed it whole. Bitter.

 

“Everyone does, Saruhiko.”  It was dark. Are you smiling? Don’t smile. Your last smile was sad. “Everyone does.”

 

He got up, turned on the lights, looked around. _Click._ Bright, empty room.

 

 _Click_. Dark, again. Empty room, still.

 

He laughed. That was it, Misaki. Everything was either cold, or very, very, very cold.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I try poetry...This is literally my first ever poem please don't judge *go hide in shame*
> 
> And yes of course my first ever poem must be about Totsuka's death. Lol?

 

These are all that he had left,

Smiling pictures, a guitar, an old saying,

_“Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”_

Of course, it should not be a lie.

 

These are all that he had left,

Crimson earrings, a song, an odd feeling,

_“This is a story full of happiness.”_

Of it, that was only the least.

 

These are all that he had left,

Echoes of footsteps, blankets in small attic,

Withering flowers picked from the other cities

Their gardens forgot them with no mercy.

 

These are all that he had left,

Untold lonely years of cold-hearted smile,

Clouds over head, fire that doesn’t burn

Shines through, unending, the realm of return.

 

There is nothing else he had left,

Spring fades, summer dies, last of December

King falls, knights cry, ruins in sight,

But the kingdom won’t rest till justice rewrites.


End file.
